


You Feel Like Home

by kassandra_divina_trevelyan



Series: Turning the Page [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassandra_divina_trevelyan/pseuds/kassandra_divina_trevelyan
Summary: Returned from two weeks in honeymoon paradise, Steve and Helena are settling into the new normal that is married life. With a world not in need of saving and no pressing matters to attend to, the two want to enjoy a quiet morning that they hope might mark the start of their forever.*PART OF THE SOLSTICE UNIVERSE* *FEATURES ORIGINAL CHARACTER*
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Turning the Page [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696246
Kudos: 2





	You Feel Like Home

The sunlight filtered through the mostly closed blinds of the Rogers house in the quiet of the morning. The white picket fence, green lawn suburbia where Steve and Helena, newlyweds, decided to settle down for the next chapter in their lives was quiet in the early hour. Despite what he told Tony a while back about the classic American dream of kids and the house with the white picket fence being lost in the ice, Steve felt an odd sense of comfort where he was at. But the situation was different, adapted to fit him now. He and Helena still were heroes to the world when they needed them, but their little home offered some semblance of normalcy that both desperately wanted. 

In the kitchen, Helena turned on the stove onto a low heat and dropped some butter into the pan to melt. The faint sizzle of the butter against the heat through the metal of the pan was like music to her ears. She was making breakfast for her and Steve, figuring a breakfast in bed would be an excellent way to wake up her husband. Helena tied her hair up into a messy ponytail, functional and appropriate for the early morning hour. She studied the ingredients laid out before her: eggs, bacon, some strawberries, sourdough bread slices prepared to become toast. She scrunched her nose in concentration as she buttered the pieces of bread and dropped them into the waiting toaster. The smell of warm butter and the sizzling of a scalding pan filled the kitchen with a sense of life. Helena dropped a nice handful of bacon into the warming pan and a mouth-watering aroma wafted from the skillet, making Helena inhale deeply. 

“Gods, that smells so good.” Helena mused and she grabbed her small phone, a gift from Tony. She was more analog, meaning she used it for calls, music, and maybe an app or two. She used a laptop for more technology-based tasks, which worked for her and Steve since he was still learning his way around technology and Helena spent a good portion of her life operating without it. She plugged in her hot pink earbuds and slipped the phone into the pocket of the dress shirt she was wearing that she casually picked up off the floor of her bedroom. She pressed the shuffle on her music library and got to work.   
Expertly twirling a knife in her hands, Helena plucked several strawberries from the small carton she picked up from the grocery store and sliced them into smaller pieces. Her eyes studied the berries in undeterred concentration, displaying the precision of a trained chef. She filled up a small bowl to the brim with strawberries before topping it with honey, cream, and a pinch of sugar. She smiled in satisfaction, turning around to work on the bacon. 

After a few minutes, she extracted the bacon from the pan and onto two plates. She glanced over to the toaster when the two slices of bread animatedly popped back up—likely accompanied by the tell-tale chime. Helena swayed her hips to the beat of the song her phone was on and plucked them from the toaster. She sliced them in half, buttered them, and plated them with a smile. She knew that Steve never demanded she cooked for him or bent herself into the role of a “traditional wife,” but she did these things as labors of love. She chose to take care of him for all the times he let her lean on him when she felt lost, scared, or defeated. He never judged her for her past, her choices, or what she considered to be her flaws. 

The final touch was the eggs, made sunny side up style. While she cracked the eggs in a bowl, Helena caught sight of her ring glittering in the sunlight. A smile crossed her face when she thought about her engagement ring, which she had saved in a small, mahogany box on a chain. Married life was something so new and exciting to her. Returning from the honeymoon on Eprana, Helena nearly swore that the last couple of weeks were just a dream too good to be true. The island was only occupied by the two of them for almost two weeks, meaning that the two made good use of their isolation. The world didn’t need saving, no crazy antics from their friends, and no cataclysmic, end of the world disasters. Just Steve and Helena with nowhere to be and plenty of time with each other. 

Helena stifled a giggle as she poured the eggs into the same pan once she gleaned up most of the bacon grease. She gave an experimental poke of the eggs with the corner of the spatula before dialing up her music to an unholy volume and diving into cooking. Helena, so absorbed in her task, hardly realized the sound of someone coming down the stairs and heading toward the kitchen. 

Plodding into the kitchen and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Steve recognized the scent of grease, butter, and the other delicious smells of Helena’s cooking. He sleepily raked his fingers through his hair and assumed that Helena had gotten up to make breakfast, the logical conclusion for him when he felt the empty warm spot where she tended to sleep. When he caught sight of Helena standing by the stove, he grinned at the sight of her swaying her hips to the music she was listening to and the oh so familiar shirt she wore. So, that’s where that shirt went. Steve quietly walked up behind Helena, wrapping his arms around her waist and lazily dipping them to brush her bare thighs, getting her attention. Steve removed one of her earbuds by the cord and felt Helena subconsciously nuzzle into him, recognizing him by his touch alone. Steve just found himself thankful that Helena’s warrior instincts hadn’t jumped the gun because he might otherwise be sporting a nice bruise or burn from the frying pan.  
  
“Is that my shirt?” Steve mumbled next to Helena’s ear, his voice was deep and husky from sleep. Helena’s cheeks flushed a soft pink and she chewed on her lip while she poked around the eggs in the pan. 

“Perhaps?” She sheepishly admitted, but the sheer size of the shirt gave it away. The fabric engulfed her svelte figure and showed that it was quite oversized. That, and it smelt of his favorite aftershave and deodorant, marking it as his. Steve chuckled at his wife’s shyness during his questioning. 

Well, it looks better on you than it does on me. And, then again, you would look beautiful in a potato sack.” Steve remarked, leaning to the side and pressing a tender kiss to Helena’s temple while his hands rested along her stomach. He could get used to the sight of her wearing nothing but his shirts in their kitchen in the same way he was acclimating to seeing his mother’s wedding ring gleaming proudly on her finger to match his father’s, which he wore. Helena hummed delightedly at Steve’s comment and she lifted the eggs from the pan. She gently dropped them into the plates resting to the side of the stove and felt satisfied with the work she produced. 

“Breakfast is ready, my love,” Helena said, an entertained twinkle lighting up in her eyes when she handed Steve the plate of toast, fruit, bacon, and the sunny side up egg she finished cooking moments before. She shut off the stove and contemplated reaching for the coffee she made for Steve, as she was a tea kind of woman. 

“Thank you, honeybee,” Steve whispered and leaned his head closer to hers, brushing their lips together in a kiss of a butterfly’s wings: delicate and soft to the touch. Helena’s lips broke out into a smile and Steve swore the whole world felt brighter, or maybe that was Helena’s dazzling smile that could make the sun turn in shame. Steve dropped his plate to the countertop next to him and spun Helena into his arms, her back resting against his chest. Steve closed his eyes and nuzzled his face along her head. He still couldn’t believe this was real, that he found the life he imagined for himself back in the 40s. Although the gal of his heart was different than he initially anticipated, he wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. That- that was the past. Helena, she was his future.   
His fingers absentmindedly pulled the hair tie holding back her hair and he buried his face into her dark, silky-soft hair. She smelled of that fragrant vanilla shampoo of hers that he loved so much and the faint notes of honey from her body. She was delicate, and yet, the contours of her body suggested the strength of a warrior, perfectly encompassing what she was. He whispered a soft, yearning, “I love you,” 

“I love you too,” Helena whispered back.


End file.
